Loyalty
by McGeekle
Summary: "My one last act of loyalty to my father has made me…everything I was trying not to be." Tag to 'Revenge'


"You alright?" Vance asked her.

After she had recounted her story to Gibbs, after she had given her statement to homeland, after her car had been seized as 'evidence', after the feeling of Tony's concern nearly drowned her, no. She was not alright. She could not be alright.

She confirmed with a nod when her vocal cords refused to work. Her entire body was screaming no. She was not alright. Bodnar was dead. He was dead and she didn't even mean to kill him.

"It is over."

The words came with some degree of difficulty, almost refusing to leave her throat.

It was over. Bodnar was _dead_. There was no way for her to know why he took her father from her. Why he took Jackie Vance from her husband and children. Why he betrayed years of trust. Why he nearly killed her partner.

She looked at Director Vance, his steeled features flooded with relief. He was glad this was over. He was happy that the man that had killed his wife was brought to justice. But he didn't have the blood of another man on his hands. He didn't have to think about the what if's.

What if she had waited for backup?

What if she hadn't kicked him just so?

What if she could have brought him in alive?

The possibilities were making her head throb.

The night passed her in a blur. Her entire body ached with the pain of battle, and though she told herself her body wasn't hurt, it felt as though her heart was ripped in two.

She ended up in the bullpen, not sitting at her desk, just standing in front of it. Tony watched her, clearly concerned. She couldn't deal with his emotions right now. She couldn't even deal with her own.

Gibbs touched her arm, snapping her to attention.

"Ziva," he said softly, "I'm gonna have DiNozzo take you home."

"I would rather stay here, fill out my report."

"People are going to have a lot of questions tomorrow. Best thing you can do right now is get some rest."

She only nodded in response. She didn't have the energy to argue with Gibbs when she knew she was going to lose anyway. She stared blankly at Tony's desk, not looking at anything really, but suppressed a jump when his eyes met hers. She was lost in the connection for a moment before Gibbs tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up quickly to meet his gaze. He held up her sling.

"Wear it," he ordered softly.

She nodded once again. It seemed as if it was the only thing she was capable of doing.

"Come on, Ziva," she turned to Tony once again, his voice was soft, reassuring. And though he held his hand out to her, he didn't try to take her hand as she expected, taking her gear from her instead. Her tired body and injured soul were grateful.

How he managed to be exactly what she needed she would never know.

The ride to her apartment was silent. It was hard to speak knowing what happened the last time they were in a car alone together. The silence was tense; not in a hostile way, but in one pregnant with emotion neither wanted to speak of. It was suffocating her.

When she finally stepped out of the car, it was no easier to breathe than it had been inside. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on her chest.

She headed towards her apartment, fumbling for her keys before realizing that they were in her backpack…which she did not have. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and found her keys dangling in front of her face.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome."

She unlocked the door with some difficulty and turned back to Tony, expecting him to hand over her gear, but he just looked at her as though he expected to come in.

"I can make it up to my apartment on my own, Tony."

"I know you can. I just want to make it easier."

"You do not have to."

"I want to. Just let me." The look on his face was soft, concerned, and she could do nothing but concede to his wishes.

She held the door open for him, granting him access to the building. Whether or not he would make it inside her apartment she had yet to decide.

They rode the elevator up in more silence. Emotional, heavy silence.

The pressure in her chest refused to let up.

When she cracked door of her apartment open, Tony seemed to have no intentions of leaving. She turned to him, giving him a disgruntled glare.

"Just let me help you get settled in for the night," he said calmly.

She rolled her eyes at him, knowing that arguing would get her nowhere with him tonight.

He didn't smirk like she'd suspected him to. His eyes were soft, sympathetic and incredibly sincere. He still cared. The realization made her heart drop into her stomach. She drew in a sharp breath and quickly turned away.

"You can leave the pack by the door," she said. "Thank you for helping me. I will see you tomorrow."

"I thought I would stick around for a bit. You know…"

"Tony, I appreciate you being here, but I am tired, and would like to go to bed."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

"What?"

"To help get you into bed."

"I am sure that was meant to sound better than it did, but I do not need help, thank you."

"Can you tell me that you can raise your arm above your head without excruciating pain?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"Exactly."

"Fine. But no peeking."

"Only because I'm a gentleman."

"Ha." she scoffed

"And because I've already seen what you don't want me to see. Remember, sweetcheeks?" he asked, teasing.

She resisted the urge to punch him. "That was a long time ago, but no, I have not," she said, her inability to joke making him frown. He tried again.

"You know, this is not how I imagined getting into your bedroom."

"I suppose you expected to be much more delighted when undressing me as well, yes?" That was more like it.

He helped her carefully out of her shirt and pants, but was the gentleman he said he was, turning away when she took off her bra. With his eyes still closed, and trying to keep her hisses of pain to a minimum, he helped her into a large button up flannel shirt. He had a sneaking suspicion it was his, but refrained from saying anything about it.

She took care of washing her face and brushing her teeth, but asked him gently if he could help her brush her hair.

He sat with her, his hair brushing skills minimal, but she gently coached him through it. He was clumsy, but it was strangely relaxing as he worked out all the knots that had formed in her ponytail. As she sat with her back to him, he felt compelled to speak.

"Ziva?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over them.

"Yes?"

"I know you're not fine. You say you are, but I see this tearing you apart," he paused for a moment, trying to articulate what he was trying to say, "Things…might get worse before they get better…but I just want you to know…I'm still here, and I'll always be here. Being…whatever it is that you need me to be."

She felt the tears she was desperately trying to keep at bay surge forward.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. We're past that."

"Past me thanking you for putting up with me even when I screw everything up?"

"No. Past you thanking me for wanting to be with you. You don't have to thank me for being here, Ziva, because I want to be, and I always will." He ran the brush through her hair one last time before setting it down on the nightstand.

"Finished."

"Thank you. I know you said that I do not have to say it, but I want to anyway."

"Okay," he paused. "I should get going. I don't want to keep you up."

"You are not. You were very helpful."

He smiled slightly, "Goodnight, Ziva."

She didn't respond right away. She looked like she were running something through her mind over and over, her eyes darting all over the place.

"You can stay, if you want," she said softly.

He stared at her for a second, wondering if she was serious. She didn't waver though, didn't take it back, so he nodded. She slowly climbed under the covers, trying to make herself comfortable. He slowly took off his jacket and shoes, giving her an opportunity to change her mind. She didn't. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed facing her.

She looked distressed, haunted. Her eyes were tired, but she wasn't allowing herself to sleep. Tony reached across the bed, taking her hand in his.

"Talk to me, Ziva."

She stayed silent for a few moments before speaking.

"When I decided to leave Mossad, and to become an American citizen, I thought I was making a change in myself. I thought I was becoming a better person. One who doesn't follow orders blindly, or let pain cloud my judgement, or kill a man because my father demands it. I thought I was different, and now I do not know," she paused, tears now flowing down her face. "My one last act of loyalty to my father has made me…everything I was trying not to be."

Tony squeezed her hand tighter, not wanting to speak. He knew she had to get some of this out before she exploded.

"Everything is just…wrong," she said. "Ilan is dead, but I do not feel anything. I do not feel relieved or happy. I know that I did not expect to feel happy, exactly…but I just thought maybe I would feel…I do not know," her voice broke, a choked sob escaping her throat as she finally lost control.

"I killed him, Tony. We fought, and I killed him. But I swear, I did not mean to. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask him why he took my father from me. I went to confront him, but I did not want it to end that way."

"I know you didn't," he said, "because you're not that person anymore. I know who you were, and I've watched you change so much in the time that you've been here. I know where you came from, at least to an extent, but where you came from doesn't have to define you."

"But it does, Tony. I was Mossad for longer than I can remember. It is all I knew for many years of my life. What if I cannot be anything else?"

"You are something else. You're NCIS now."

"And look how far that has gotten me. I used all of you. Gibbs, McGee, you. I used you to avenge a man that did nothing but use _me_ my entire life because I felt bound by my duty to him. I risked you all, and for what? You could have died, Tony. I could have lost you."

He reached across the small gap between them, cupping her cheek with his hand, "I'm still here. Gibbs and McGee knew what they were getting into when they said yes to helping you, and so did I. We're always going to be here to help you, Zi. We're a team. We would never leave you behind." Their eyes locked together, the significance of his statement not lost on either of them. They had brought her back from the brink before, and they would do it again, if necessary. "Please believe me, Zi. I would do anything for you."

She nodded, his smooth palm rubbing gently against her cheek. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek, futilely trying to wipe her tears away. Her eyes were closing more rapidly by the minute, and though he knew there was more she needed to say, her body was giving in to her fatigue.

"Sleep, Ziva. I'll be here in the morning."

"Thank you, Tony," she whispered.

"Anytime," he murmured. He rolled onto his back, taking the hand from her face and settling it onto his chest. He stayed awake until he heard her breathing even out, and he dropped off not long after; their hands still intertwined.


End file.
